


Moonlight on Our Skin

by sksdwrld



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, D/s, Ice Play, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sensory Deprivation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-08 01:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1126799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sksdwrld/pseuds/sksdwrld
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We feel cold, but we don't mind it, because we will not come to harm. And if we wrapped up against the cold, we wouldn't feel other things, like the bright tingle of the stars, or the music of the aurora, or best of all the silky feeling of moonlight on our skin. It's worth being cold for that." – Phillip Pullman</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlight on Our Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Penwyn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penwyn/gifts).



The world was dark and quiet, but blissfully warm. The way the heat radiated toward him in waves and the smell of burning pitch told Draco that there was an actual fire and not just a warming spell. He was sitting on his heels with his knees widely spread and his hands firmly clasped behind his neck. Completely naked (save the blindfold and earmuffs) Draco's body naturally inclined toward the what he could only assume was the hearth in the drawing room, though he tried very hard to maintain the position Harry had left him in before abandoning him.

Seconds passed by, but each one, without Harry's touch, felt like hours. Draco had been counting some time ago, but the numbers slipped away from him as he'd begun to tune into his surroundings. His body was fraught with tension, straining toward everything and nothing, forever anticipating the touch that had yet to come.

His pulse was racing and Draco could feel it singing through every blood vessel in his body, especially the one that traversed the underside of his cock. Throb, throb, throb. Dizzily, Draco swayed. He felt drunk with want and ached with a need he had never known before. Stripped of his two primary senses, Draco felt as though he was nothing and everything at once.

Draco felt a reverberation on the old floorboards beneath him, knowing from the cadence of the footfalls that Harry was nearby and coming closer. Draco wanted to right himself but it was though he was being pulled toward Harry by an invisible string in his chest. Touch me, touch me, touch me, his body seemed to plead.

Nearer still Harry moved, until Draco could smell the crispness of his cologne and underlying it, the faint musk of his sweat. Draco's breath caught in his throat and he entreated Harry with all of his being for something, anything, to remind Draco that he was really real, and not just a fading figment of his own imagination.

Finally, it came: a searing sensation down Draco's spine, so sharp and unexpected that he couldn't tell at first whether it was fiery hot or blisteringly cold. A moan escaped him, and though he couldn't hear it, he felt the way it dragged itself from the depths of his gut, deep and unbecoming.

In the wake of the touch, there was a wetness and when Harry followed it up with a puff of air, Draco shivered violently. Cold, then.

Draco felt Harry's hands on his ribs, gently steadying him, repositioning him, setting his skin on fire with each stroke of each fingertip. When Harry's hands disappeared, he felt their loss acutely and choked back a sob.

It was minutes before Draco felt anything other than Harry's gaze on him. The cold came again, this time behind his right ear, tracing down the curve of his neck and along side his jugular. What he could only guess was an ice cube moved away briefly, only for the motion be repeated on the left side. As a rivulet of icy water pooled into his collarbone, Draco gasped.

A moment later, Harry thumbed Draco's lip, sending a current of warmth coursing straight through Draco to his groin. He canted his hips and they found only air, but Harry's thumb slid farther into his mouth and Draco gratefully latched onto it, laving and sucking and moaning around the digit until Harry pulled it free.

Bereft once more, Draco sank back on his heels and tried to compose himself. He was a Malfoy after all, and Malfoy's maintained control of their faculties if nothing else... Except that Draco had ceased being Malfoy to Harry years ago, and was only ever Draco or Pet or very seldomly, Dray, and he often struggled with composure in matters where Harry was concerned. Harry had always had that effect on him, and had a way of picking at the seams of Draco's being until he came undone. And here he was, swiftly and predictably unravelling before Harry's very eyes for no reason other than that was how Harry liked him best.

The ice circled Draco's nipples, blazed wet trails down his abdomen and saturated every inch of his hips. It hovered over the pulse points of Draco's wrists, elbows, and knees, teased between his fingers and toes, and dampened the hollow of his throat. In the midst of it all, Harry's fingertips burned over him, feather soft or bruising and nothing in between. Draco didn't care: he wanted whatever Harry saw fit to give him and revelled in each gifted touch.

When Harry took Draco's wrists in hand, Draco sagged toward him, moaning and ready to be taken, embraced, ravished. Except that Harry didn't so much draw him into his arms as he did bend Draco over and plant his palms on the floor. It took Draco's brain a moment to catch up with what was happening, and when it did, Draco recoiled violently.

"No!" Draco cried, rearing up and blindly clutching for Harry, his fingers digging into warm flesh. Ever patient, Harry repositioned Draco three times, and on the third go, Draco hung his head and sobbed real tears that rendered the silk sash clinging wetly to his face. The ice cubes had left Draco pebbled with gooseflesh and shivering and the thought of having something so cold inhabit the most delicate and sensitive areas of his body...well, it had him trembling in fear and imagining his bits stuck fast to the cube like a tongue to an icy flagpole.

Harry stroked him comfortingly, rubbing him down like a thoroughbred after a hard ride. Draco could nearly hear Harry's voice in his head, reassuring him, promising not to hurt him. He had his safeword and Harry would always honor it. But Harry would also never push him harder than he could take; he had the utmost trust in Harry and this was no exception.

Draco took a deep breath, then rubbed his face against his shoulder, trying to scrub away the traces of his tears and the evidence of his defiance. Harry, ever the savior, came to Draco's aid, wiping his face down with a soft cloth, his blindfold drying beneath a shimmer of magic.

Laying his hands on either side of Draco's face, Harry kissed him softly, his lips almost an unspoken question. Draco nodded in response. He was alright. He was ready to proceed. He pushed himself up, widening his legs for Harry, bracing himself and preparing for discomfort.

Harry danced his fingers over Draco's shoulder, lingering on his back as he moved around and behind him. Shifting lower, one of Harry's hands pried Draco's arsecheeks apart and the other slid around his rim, lube-slick and already stretched in anticipation tonight's play. The fingertips were all too quickly fleeting and replaced by something large, blunt and cold. It circled and nudged his hole and Draco's body spasmed, clamping down tightly to prevent intrusion. He winced and waited for a spank of reproval that never came.

Instead, Draco felt an inquisitive flicker of a tongue at his entrance and he moaned in appreciation. To his dismay, it was short-lived, too quickly traded for the smooth ice which nudged its way inside of him this time, sliding up, up, up until it seemed he was impaled, his body flexing and twisting as it tried to reject the frozen phallus. Just as quickly as it had come, it was gone again, and Draco was rewarded with Harry's tongue once more. It licked and lapped and soothed the icy sting away, leaving Draco's body humming and warm.

Harry tortured Draco in this fashion, fucking him with an icicle that seemed to be an unmelting replica of Harry's own cock. Each interval was longer than the last, freezing Draco to the core and leaving him convinced that he had never known true coldness before this day. Each time Draco was sure he couldn't bear it any longer, the prickling chill retreated and was replaced by searing hot, wet kisses that had Draco arching and whimpering and begging for more.

Now, Harry drove the phallus into Draco's prostate, battering it relentlessly. Draco rocked on his fours and keened, his body reduced to a mass of confused nerves that couldn't decide if he was in perilous pain or in the throes of rapture. Finally, the icicle slid into him and stilled. Before Draco could protest, he felt himself turned in Harry's arms then pushed to the floor.

Draco bucked up into Harry's mouth as it enveloped his aching prick, untouched until this very moment. The suction and the warmth and the friction of Harry's tongue against his neglected cock proved too much. Without warning, Draco's body gave itself over to sensation. He thrashed as he came, clamping around the unyeilding coldness and spilling into Harry's hot, velvet mouth. He laughed as he cried, and then, dizzily, stars swam behind his eyes before fading to momentary blackness.

The next thing Draco was aware of was laying sprawled in Harry's arms, the sound of Harry's sweet nothings in his ear. His left arm was looped around Harry's neck and his fingers played with soft tufts of Harry's hair. He peeked his eyes open and found Harry smiling fondly down at him. As Harry kissed him, Draco closed his eyes again and let himself be swept away by the only hero he'd ever known.


End file.
